


Just Let Me

by depthsofmysol



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofmysol/pseuds/depthsofmysol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is an idiot. A brilliant, and extremely resourceful point man, but an idiotic human being. And Eames plans on showing him exactly that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Let Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eamesish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eamesish/gifts).



> A few days late, and not quite the fic I had originally thought about, but hopefully just as good! <33

It was only a matter of time, before the inevitable happened. Eames knew it. Arthur knew it. Even their damn team knew it. The way they'd been working, it was only a matter of time before one, or _more_ , of their team ended up sick. Their client was the sort that demanded everything to be done perfectly, the first time. Otherwise, as Eames _fondly_ remembered, what was the point? He had them digging up every single piece of dirt on their mark, and then some. It didn't matter that their job was stressful enough, without having all of that added on top. 

It didn't even matter that they'd spent the mast three weeks running themselves ragged, traipsing around Seattle, in an attempt to please their client. All that seemed to matter, and what unnerved him the most, was the fact that they had all been determined to finish the job, and ignore the fact that if they all ended up sick, the job would be a bust. He knew, knew, it was going to spell trouble, and soon. It was Murphy's Law. And no one would ever convince him otherwise.

When their architect, some girl that Arthur had worked with before, called in sick, Eames wasn't surprised. He knew it was bound to happen, and was relieved it was her, and not one of the others. Fall in Seattle, it seemed, was almost as crazy as the weather in England, and with rain, and cool temps one day, sun and warm temps the next, it was bound to have happened. Allergies had been the excuse, but they all knew what the real reason was. 

Yet, they still went on as if nothing had changed. He'd tried to pipe up, and tell them it might be a time for a break. But, like every other time he worked with Arthur, the point man quickly shot him down, reminding him that they could do that once the job was _complete_. He was an idiot. A brilliant, and extremely resourceful point man, but an idiotic human being. And once he'd gotten it in his head, there was no way to get him to change his mind. Eames remembered far too many arguments that ended up with them barely on speaking terms. This job was far too important for that to happen.

Three days later, when Arthur called to inform him he wouldn't be meeting the team at the warehouse they were renting, Eames knew it was time to put his foot down. Having one team member down, they could handle. It would mean a little bit more work for the remaining members, but with a job like this one, they could pull it off. He and Arthur had done so in the past, and could do it again. But having their point man down, as well? No, it was time for _all_ of them to take a few days break. 

Himself, included. It didn't matter what all they did. Just as long as it wasn't work related, they took care of themselves, and didn't get sick. He wasn't quite sure what he would do, should the rest of the team get whatever bug their architect had picked up. They could probably delay the job, and hope for the best. Though, their client would probably have some sort of aneurysm upon finding that out. Someone, meaning him, had to look out for the team. Seeing as they would work themselves to death, without thinking twice about it. It also meant checking up on Arthur.

Even though they kept their personal life separate from their professional, Eames had always had a soft spot for the point man. Especially, when he was sick. It was a rare thing to see Arthur, dedicated to his job, actually call in sick. Usually, he would work right through it, and play it off like it was nothing. Having been the one on the receiving end of the phone call, he could tell Arthur was more than just a _little_ under the weather. He was sick. Sicker than he'd heard in a long time. And given how long they'd been together, that was saying something. Before today, he was starting to wonder just what it would have taken to keep Arthur from actually coming in to work. Now, he knew. 

Normally, he might have taken pleasure, knowing just what it took to keep Arthur away. But, standing in front of the point man's door, Eames felt almost guilty for such feelings. The man was sick, and there he was, picking the lock to Arthur's safe house, thinking about how he had yet another piece of information to use against him. _Almost_ , he reminded himself, hearing the mechanisms of the lock tell him he'd been successful. Guilt wasn't something he associated with the point man. No, there were a slew of other emotions, like concern, pride, and sometimes even jealousy, that he tended to associate with Arthur. Never guilt, though.

"I thought you had a key to this place," Arthur hesitantly called out. Whatever it was that hit him, was no ordinary bug. He'd been sick a handful of times before, but _never_ like this. It honestly felt like he was going to die. And, having died in dreams many times over, it made no sense. At all.

He also knew just who it was that had entered the flat. Only one person knew about it's location in Capitol Hill, and only one would have the audacity to actually pick the lock. Arthur had hoped Eames would have left well enough alone, and allow him to brood over the job on his own. With two members down, it was going to be next to impossible to get it done. And calling in replacements would set them back even further. This was a logistical _nightmare_ , and all he could think about was sleep.

"I do, but where's the fun in actually using it," he cheerfully quipped. Eames had seen the point man leaning up against the bedroom door frame, and was startled by the man's appearance. Gone was the pomade in his hair, the tight fitting suits, and anything else that tended to scream Arthur. In its place, loose fitting pyjamas, sitting low on his hips, a grey t-shirt, and hair that looked like he'd just woken up. In all honesty, if it weren't for the fact that he knew Arthur was sick, he would have gone for his totem. And then proceed to strip the point man of his clothes. Slowly. Piece by piece. The mental image, unfortunately, was killing him, and with a slight groan, forced it from his thoughts.

" _You_ , on the other hand, should be resting. C'mon, back to bed," Eames tutted, walking from the small hallway, to the door, and turning the point man back around. He remembered the sound of Arthur's voice from the phone call, sounding even worse than the voice that had greeted him moments earlier. Eames knew he was sick. Sicker than he'd ever been, and if he could somehow get it through the point man's head to take it easy, he would do so. He would also show the man just how much of an idiot he'd been, to work their group to their breaking point. But first, he needed to take care of Arthur. And to do that, he needed to make certain the point man was resting. Something he _knew_ would be next to impossible.

"I'm fi – " The words weren't even barely out of his mouth, before Arthur bolted back to the bathroom, and dry heaved, knowing all that was left in his system had already been purged. Maybe Eames had a point, maybe he should have just stayed in bed, instead of investigating what he already knew. Like he would ever say that out loud. He knew just how much that would boost the forger's ego, and under the circumstances, was the _last_ thing he wanted. 

He also didn't want to be mothered, remembering the time in Athens, when he'd gotten a touch of food poisoning, and Eames had spent every free moment making certain he had anything and everything he needed. Arthur had been, and always would be, an independent person. He could take care of himself, and had been doing just that since he was a teenager. Being smothered, being taken care of, it just wasn't something he could handle. _Especially_ when that person just happened to be Eames. But seeing the forger leaning against the bathroom door frame, seeing the concern, the _love_ , Arthur knew sending him away wouldn't help either one of them. 

"Yeah, I can see you're _fine_ , pet," he teased, knowing it would only rankle Arthur more. Eames also couldn't help the chuckle that came forth, watching the point man throw his hands up in surrender. He knew he was right. There was no way Arthur was fine, and seeing him finally come to that conclusion was tantamount to a small victory. And he would take whatever he would get from the point man. Especially, as he had yet to inform him of the small fact he'd told the team to take a few days for themselves. They needed it. With the way they'd been working, they would have ended up dead, or worse, if they had continued. Now, at least, they could make certain everyone would be as ready as they could be.

"And, there's no need to worry about the job. At least not for a few days. I told everyone to relax, and make certain they weren't sick."

If Arthur had felt better, it all went down the drain in a hurry. He _knew_ what their client was like, and knew they couldn't afford any more delays. And yet, his forger, the one person he could trust, had gone behind his back, and sent them on a vacation. _Something_ , he'd reminded him, they could all do once the job was _complete_. Livid wasn't even going to cover his feelings. Livid didn't even begin to cover them. Were he not sick, and barely able to stand on his own two feet, he would have shown Eames just _how_ he felt.

"You did _what_?" The words felt thick on his tongue, but Arthur knew the forger would understand the ire behind them. He was the responsible one of the group, the one person they could _trust_ , and even though he'd been sick in bed, he wasn't about to shred himself of the responsibilities of the job. Now – now, he could only imagine what everyone thought of him. All the hard work, everything he'd done to build up the reputation that he had, gone. All because of one, _idiotic_ man. Sometimes, he wondered just why he stayed with Eames, remembering all the little things that would drive him mad. There were the other things, those times when he wouldn't want anyone by his side _except_ Eames. But right now? He wished his Glock was within reach.

"Do you _know_ how hard I worked to get us this job, Eames? How hard I've worked for my reputation? And you – you just threw it all away."

"Christ, Arthur. _Listen_ to yourself. Listen to what you're saying."

"No, _you_ listen. I don't need you to babysit me, don't need you to _mother_ me, or whatever it is you had in mind when you _broke into_ my flat. Just – "

" _Arthur_ , for once in your bloody life will you just _let_ someone take care of you. Christ, you're worse – "

Eames had seen Arthur start to sway, knowing their argument had taken out whatever little strength the point man had left. It had taken all of three steps before he was able to catch him, keeping him from hitting the hardwood floors that lined most of his flat. Were the man actually conscious, he might have tutted him again, reminding him that he was supposed to be resting. Instead, the point man was out cold, in his arms, and the only thing he could do was pick him up, and carry him back to bed. He could actually feel the heat radiating off Arthur, and knew if it kept up, the man would need a cold shower to keep his own body from cooking itself from the inside out. He also knew that he would need plenty of fluids, to make certain he didn't get dehydrated. 

It was what he'd planned, when he broke into the flat, as Arthur so _lovingly_ put it. But after their argument, how he'd said he didn't need anyone, Eames was wondering if maybe he was right, that maybe he was better off just returning to his hotel room, and letting whatever Arthur had run it course.

The sound of his own front door closing was what initially dragged Arthur from sleep. He couldn't remember much, other than the fact that Eames had broken into his flat, and they'd argued. It was all a complete blank after that. Which meant that either the forger had returned, or someone else had broken into his flat. Neither of which he wanted to deal with. His bed was comfortable. More so, because he was freezing cold, and the blankets that had been placed on top of him, had finally taken the edge off of it. But sitting in his bedroom, listening to someone rummage around his kitchen, was making him uneasy. And as much as he hated to get up, he needed to know, for his own sake, just _who_ was out there.

"Eames?" His voice was barely above a whisper, the light too bright for his own eyes, and instantly sent a pounding pain behind his eyes. And, what little strength he had left after crawling out of bed, was quickly being drained. Arthur could barely make out the shape from his bedroom door, but the general outline he saw made him think immediately of the forger. Hadn't he told him to leave? That he wasn't wanted? Hadn't that been what they were arguing about beforehand? No, there was something about the job, and – it all hit him at once. He remembered exactly what they'd been arguing about, and seeing Eames in his kitchen, had him wondering if maybe he was delirious.

"You should be resting, not walking around." Eames had debated leaving, and not returning. Had debated just dropping out of the job completely, and returning to Mombasa. But sitting, and _watching_ , Arthur sleep, knowing just how weak he was, reminded him far too much of the times when they'd been hurt, and had taken care of each other. _Those_ times were what kept him coming back, time and time again. He also knew far too well how hard Arthur had worked for his reputation. How could he not? He'd given up time together to help Cobb on one job or another, after Mal had died. 

Now, that they were free of their former extractor, he had hoped that maybe Arthur wouldn't push himself quite so hard. Watching him barely keeping himself standing up right, he knew that the point man would never stop pushing himself, and would probably end up working himself to death. Was it something he wanted to stick around and watch? Some days, he thought he knew. Other days? Love would only carry them so far before something had to give. Watching the point man work himself to death wasn't something he was going to be a part of. No matter how much he loved the man.

"I thought I told you – "

"You did. And, then proceeded to pass out right where you're standing."

"Oh."

"Do you _really_ think me that cold and callous, Arthur?" Sometimes, Eames had to wonder just went through the point man's head. Especially, in times like these, when all he could do was throw accusations at him. In the past, they were the one person the other could _always_ count on. But lately, things had started to fray around the edges. The last time it happened, it had taken six months, and _a lot_ of help from Ariadne to set things straight. What was to say that this time would be any different? That this time he wouldn't just walk away and stay away? Maybe he was the idiot, and not Arthur. Maybe he was the one who needed to just walk away, and never look back.

"No. Of course not. I just – " _Didn't expect you to return_ , was what Arthur had wanted to say. He couldn't, though. The words were still too thick on his tongue, and he was still tired from whatever was running rampant through his system. Sleep was still the one thing he wanted most. And then, he wanted Eames. Not in a sexual manner. Just – to have him there, knowing he was in the flat when he woke up. The forger was the one person he'd come to count on, the one person he knew would be there. Even during their last major separation, when they'd stopped speaking, and working, together, a part of him knew that should he find himself in trouble, Eames would be there.

"I'm – I think – " Again, he felt like the words just refused to come, instead using his hands to indicate he was going back to bed. Arthur knew he was right, and yet, also knew he was wrong. Eames had been thinking of him, when he'd dismissed the team for a few days. Which, for the forger, was strange. Usually, he thought of himself first, and anyone else, second. What had changed? Or, had it been there the whole time, and he'd just refused to see it. Did it honestly matter? 

Probably not. As he crawled into bed, he knew they were once again pulling apart. It seemed to happen more frequently, and Arthur knew eventually, they would end up working on opposite sides of the world. All in an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible. That was how they worked, after all. When they were together, things were perfect. When that perfection started to fade, everything seemed to collapse. Their current job, unfortunately, was the start of the slide that would end up in them, once again, going their separate ways. Arthur wasn't even too sure he could handle another round of them being apart. Not when he knew how good they were together.

Eames, on the other hand, wondered just why he kept coming back. Every single fibre kept telling him to just walk away, and put it all behind him, once and for all. But he couldn't. The point man had gotten underneath his skin, like no one else, and like an idiot, he kept coming back when the man was in trouble.

"What have you done to me, poppet," his words came out barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake the sleeping form of Arthur. He could still feel the heat coming off of the man, but it wasn't like before. Which meant slowly, but surely, the fever was coming down. Once that happened, he could leave, without even feeling guilty. But would he? Doubtful. Running his hands through Arthur's hair, enjoying the feel of it without all the pomade, reminded him of just why they always gravitated towards the other. They knew the little things about the other that no one else knew, knew they were the others one major weakness, the one thing that could be used against them. And, yet, they still remained together.

"Don't go." Arthur had heard the confession, through the haze, and reached up to take hold of the forger's wrist, begging him in so many ways not to just up and leave him. He'd been an idiot for yelling at him, felt even worse when he realized Eames was only looking out for the team, and knew they were slowly slipping apart. And through it all, he'd come to the realization that he wanted no one else by his side. 

"Shh, darling. Just go back to – "

"I mean it, Eames. I've been an idiot lately, and –"

"Yeah, you've been a right prat, Arthur. But, we can talk about this later." Sick or not, Eames wasn't quite ready for the conversation they needed to have. Each time they'd gotten to the breaking point, he ran, instead of staying around and talking. It seemed easier that way, knowing that while they were each hurting, they wouldn't say, or do, anything that they would later regret.

"Promise me, Eames..." 

When Arthur woke, it was to the silence of his apartment. He had thought that the forger would have stayed, would have at least given him the chance to explain everything. But the eerie quiet was all the message he needed. Once again, the man had ran, instead of actually trying to fix things. He didn't blame Eames. Time and time again, he'd done the same thing. Albeit, never in the middle of a job. Something about responsibility, and loyalty to the job, and the team, usually kept him around. Eames never really that sort of integrity. 

Rolling out of bed, feeling better than he had in hours, he slowly made his way from his bedroom, and towards the kitchen. Thirst was his main concern, and after that, Arthur was contemplating curling up on the couch, and seeing what all was on TV. Normally, he wasn't one to watch television, but staying in bed, knowing it still had a lingering smell of Eames' cologne, didn't seem quite so appealing. What he needed was some sort of distraction. Anything to keep his mind from wandering back to yet another broken promise from the forger.

"Oh, you're up. I'd hoped to be back before you woke up."

Arthur stopped in his tracks, using the bedroom door frame to lean up against. He hadn't expected to hear the forger's voice, let alone in the embarrassed tone that his words took. As his eyes took in Eames, he couldn't help but notice the tint that coloured his face, and ears. Was he actually embarrassed? Had he actually kept his promise?

"Was hungry, and didn't expect you to wake for a while, so I ran down to the café I spotted yesterday." Eames could see the emotions running across Arthur's face. He hadn't expected him to stay the night, and he could only assume that he'd ran once again, having woken up to a quiet flat. How could he blame the point man. Each and every time, instead of talking, he ran. Why was this any different from before?

"I could have left, Arthur. Twice, now. And yet, I didn't." He couldn't. It was time. More than time, actually. They needed to put everything out on the table, and decide where they were going to go from there. The constant up and down nature of their relationship was trying, and Eames wasn't even sure he could do it again. He just wanted things to be normal. Or, at least as close to normal as dream criminals could have. He knew the two of them could have something close to that. It was just a matter of them working through their differences.

"I've never wanted anyone more than I've wanted you, Arthur. Yet, you keep pushing me away."

"I don't mean to. It's just – "

"Doesn't matter, darling. I know as a point man, you need to take care of everyone. But what about yourself? For once, in your life, will you _let me_ take care of you?" Eames was tired of the games, tired of having to fight Arthur about working too hard. How hard would it be for him to allow someone else to take care of him, when they weren't working? Surely, it was worth the compromise.

"Okay." Arthur could hear the weariness in Eames' voice, knew he had finally reached a breaking point. If he wanted to keep the forger around, for more than just the job, he knew he would have to compromise. It wasn't in his nature to allow anyone else to take care of him. But Eames wasn't just anyone. He was the one person he could trust. Above anyone else. And if he could allow his guard to come down around him, he could allow the man to take care of him. Even if it went against everything he was.

"And when this is all over, Eames, we're going on a vacation. Somewhere remote, and quiet, where we can just be us, and not the forger and the point man."

"I know just the place, love. Does this mean you might actually allow me to take care of you when you're not sick?"

"Don't push your luck, Mister Eames."


End file.
